


What Quistis is Not Doing Tonight

by wimblydonner



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Car Sex, Desk Sex, F/F, F/M, Fantasizing, Hate Sex, Masturbation, Multi, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-07
Updated: 2007-05-07
Packaged: 2017-11-13 16:22:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wimblydonner/pseuds/wimblydonner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quistis would never, ever have a sexual fantasy about Squall or Rinoa.  And especially not about the both of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Quistis is Not Doing Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Final Fantasy Anonymous Kink Meme prompt: _Quistis having fantasies about Squall and Rinoa separately, then about the two of them and her all together._

It is a warm summer Friday night and Quistis Trepe is not doing a lot of things. She is not, for instance, out partying like all the cadets, who are celebrating their newfound freedom from exams. Nor is she driving down to the town to take the train to Dollet for a few days' summer vacation. She is not even blowing off steam after-hours in the training center.  
  
What she _is_ doing is grading the exams from her Principles of Blue Magic final, which means she will be here for a couple more hours, holed up in her office and spending the whole time thinking about what she is _not_ doing. She will not be going out for her traditional end-of-term beer with Squall, since Squall canceled on her at the last minute to go to a nature preserve or some other stupid bullshit with Rinoa. She is not unhappy about this, she insists to herself. She might consider it a little unfair, but when was there ever any sense in getting angry? Wallowing in melodrama never solved everything, so she might as well just get on with what needed to be done.  
  
Above all things, she tells herself, she _certainly_ is not jealous. Absolutely not that. Even if she did not exactly approve of Squall's choice in girlfriends, what would she have to be jealous of? Sure, she and Squall had fucked more than a few times during their student days, but they'd never had a relationship or anything. Besides, that was years ago. It wasn't like there still anything between them, or like she was still attracted to him at all. Squall's hip bones, his shoulders and the way the water poured down them when he'd been in the rain or the shower, the whole "I'm-too-rock'n'roll-to-give-a-shit-what-I'm-supposed-to-look-like" look of his artfully disheveled hair ... they all had no appeal to her now.

Well, OK, maybe they did. A little.

But she figured that even if she and Squall ever hooked up again, she could be a lot more discreet about it than Rinoa was. Not at all like the revolting groaning that Quistis had to listen to through the hotel walls every time Rinoa invited herself along on a SeeD mission. If she and Squall ever wanted to get together again, it would be totally different. Quistis would be working late in the office some night -- OK, some night exactly like tonight. Squall would suddenly poke his head through the door, having just returned from a late-night battle session at the training center, his hair still damp from the shower, shirtless, maybe a towel slung over his shoulder. As he had always had been, he would be about as blunt as humanly possible: "I'm horny. You wanna fuck or something?"

She assures herself that she is not wishing for any such thing to happen, that absolutely no part of her keeps wishing that at any moment he might indeed wander through the door half-dressed. But she can be honest with herself and say that if he did, she would be entirely willing to take him up on the invitation. Squall's propositions were curt on the surface, but silently he would have known that she wanted a break from the occupational gauntlet she always put herself through. And she could imagine how things would proceed from there: an embrace, a few perfunctory kisses on the lips and up and down their necks, her hands on his ass and his on her breasts first through her blouse and then underneath it. Their hands would cross each other's stomachs as they reach to unzip each other's pants.

They'd done this enough times that they wouldn't need to talk, because they already knew what they wanted and how to turn each other on. Quistis would not want to talk anyway, because she does enough explaining things and over-analyzing the whole day and wants something more visceral. It would just be sex, sex the way she preferred it: no emotional bullshit, no demands on each other, only skin on skin, bodies against bodies, two people who know exactly how to drive each other to the peak of desire and then get each other off.

Squall had always been good at that kind of sex. Like when Quistis first got promoted to instructor and they'd gone out for a few drinks together and then thought it would be funny to stop at a sex toy store and by the end of the night had ended up lying across each other on her bed, stark naked and surrounded by empties and condom wrappers and Hyne only knew what they'd bought at the store. Or when they had been so bored driving across the endless Galbadian highways to pick up some cadets from G-Garden that she'd decided to blow him in the car and they somehow managed not to run off the road during any of it and even made it to G-Garden twenty minutes ahead of schedule. Or the times during lecture when he'd get sick of hearing about Firagas and Esunas and just give her that "you-know-you-want-to-fuck-me" look the whole period, so that as soon as class was dismissed, she'd have to drag him straight to the storage closet in the teachers' lounge. Before now, that was. Before Squall had to drag Rinoa along to every SeeD briefing and make their stupid kissy faces at each other while Xu was trying to finish her report on the monster situation in Winhill.

Well, that was his choice. Squall had been an excellent fuck during their undergraduate trysts, but she knows times have changed. Quistis is far too sensible to let herself get stuck on any guy who was seeing someone else.

_But_ , she thinks -- but _if_ they were still going at it, she can imagine they would be on the desk, papers scattering all over the floor. Squall would be on top of her at first; it would be hot and hard and Quistis would not have to think about anything else. And after she came the first time, she would start to rise and, hands on his shoulder, guide him backwards until she had him seated in her chair. Then she would straddle him and fuck him that way, with him seated and playing with her clit while she was in control and rode his cock until he came inside her and --

Quistis catches herself as her hand is halfway to her skirt. _Whoa, getting a little carried away there._ She had meant to be merely idly speculating, nothing more. She _certainly_ is not getting wrapped up in thinking about having sex with Squall. She is busy grading. But her pen, she realizes, had slipped out of her hand without even realizing it, and it is obvious she got a little distracted. She picks up the fallen instrument, moves onto the next essay, and tries not to think the other things she could be doing tonight.

The second thing Quistis is not doing tonight is telling Rinoa what exactly she thinks of her flakiness and selfishness. Sometime, she imagines, she might have to deliver something to Rinoa's apartment. (It was the flimsiest of excuses, of course, but since when did a good revenge fantasy ever need a plausible set-up?) Rinoa would probably already be getting ready for bed -- at _9:30_! -- and would answer the door in her nightgown, while Quistis would still have several more hours of lesson planning to look forward to. If this was reality, Quistis would just shove the package into Rinoa's hands and leave, feeling slightly grumpier than she had before.

But she can imagine that it would be different in this world of things she only _wanted_ to do. In this world, Rinoa's early bedtime would somehow be the final straw. The floodgates would open and Quistis would tell her Rinoa how sick she was of Rinoa's bullshit, of seeing her prance around all day with Squall and treating everyone who has having less fun as if they were morally deficient. Didn't she realize that some people _worked_ for a living instead of mooching off the monthly checks they secretly collected from their rich military fathers? _Some people_ weren't little princesses who expected the world to revolve around them, _some people_ weren't so irresponsible as to run away from home and live in a train, _some people_ didn't keep dragging their boyfriends to half-baked protest rallies and making everyone at Garden sign their stupid _Anarchist Monthly_ petitions to "Free Timber"...

It would be sensible, Quistis knows, just to ignore people who irritated her, but something about Rinoa always got under skin. She did not desire merely to be rid of Rinoa's presence but to _change_ Rinoa, to claim her for the side of staid, responsible people. And so some tempestuous mix of desire and frustration might compel her to make a move on Rinoa, to want to feel Rinoa's skin and have her arms around Rinoa's back and on Rinoa's chest and neck even as she was telling Rinoa how much she hated her. And while Rinoa was still looking surprised, Quistis's hand would go straight under the nightgown for Rinoa's pussy --

She has set down the red pen, stopping halfway through Cynthia Jefferson's recital of the Five Laws of Junctioning. OK, there was no way she was going to a decent job on these essays as long as she was wrapped up in imaging what she would absolutely not do to Rinoa. She might as well finish playing this one out.

But -- she reassures herself -- she doesn't really want to hate-fuck Rinoa. And Rinoa wouldn't ever laugh off Quistis's whole tirade, saying that she had heard this all thousand times before. That this was nothing new, that Rinoa knew Quistis only acted this way because, even if she would never admit it, she longed to live life a little more the way Rinoa did: a little less for other people and a little more for _herself_ , a little less caution and a little more reckless pursuit of self-fulfillment. Quistis, Rinoa would say, was clearly the silly one here; always trying so hard to live up to these lofty standards that no one cared about but Quistis herself. Didn't she realize she'd be a lot happier if she stopped being so serious?

And Rinoa wouldn't suddenly pin Quistis up against the endtable. Because then Quistis would she realize she was the one who had something to learn. Then Rinoa's lips, hovering dangerously close to Quistis's, and her wild brown eyes, locked on Quistis's own, would be daring Quistis to quit being so uptight and serious and to just once tell the rest of the world: kiss my ass, I'm out to get what _I_ want. Quistis would be trying not to stare down Rinoa's chest, pressed up against her own and only half covered by the nightgown. And when Rinoa kisses her, when their tongues meet and Quistis feels more liberated than she has in ages, she would be forced to concede that Rinoa has a point, that she has just been waiting for someone to free her from the rules she imposed on herself. Somewhere in the midst of this, her pants would end up on the floor and she would not even be sure if it was herself or Rinoa who had removed them, but it would not really matter. Not when Rinoa is kissing her again, is slowly trailing her fingertips down Quistis's back as if she somehow already knew Quistis loved this, and Quistis is slipping the nightgown straps over Rinoa's shoulders and catching Rinoa's nipples between her fingers.

Rinoa's fingers would curl around the waistband of Quistis's lacy thong. "And here I thought you were only into wearing _sensible_ things." Quistis would have nothing to say to that, because she cannot deny that she wants to stop being so practical, to actually live all the crazy and life-affirming experiences she only imagines herself having. And when Rinoa pulls the thong away, Quistis would not protest, and when two slender, maybe even _dainty_ fingers go inside her, Quistis would be almost begging for it. She would surrender and let the princess and those delicate fingers carry her away into a life of passions chased and dreams pursued and minds spoken and by the time Quistis climaxes she is not really thinking about much of anything at all.

Slowly they would regain their breath. Quistis would still be trying to piece together what the hell just happened, but Rinoa would just be terribly amused with herself. She would standing over Quistis, admiring her efforts at making Quistis go wild, smiling at her flushed cheeks and ragged breathing. And then Rinoa would do her patented mock-scowl and insist that now that she had gotten Quistis off, Quistis owed _her_ an orgasm or two.

Like being jolted awake in the midst of drifting off to sleep, Quistis suddenly realizes that this fantasy, too, has gotten terribly out of hand. Rinoa and her teasing eyes disappear and Quistis reaches for her coffee mug. It was one thing to imagine chewing out Rinoa for being lazy; how the hell had she gotten sidetracked into them fucking? A terrible job concentrating tonight, really. She had _got_ to stay focused if she wanted to get through the rest of these exams.

But she is only halfway through the next essay when Rinoa re-appears in her mind, coyly sprawled out on the couch, nightgown still half-off, watching Quistis with amusement and twisting her hair around her finger in that semi-obnoxious, semi-arousing way. "You know you want me," Rinoa says, and Quistis does. She wants to somehow break into Rinoa's far more interesting life and become part of it. She wants her hands and her lips all over Rinoa, through her hair and down her neck and on her breasts and her hips and her ass and her thighs. (Rinoa had a great body, Quistis always admitted _that_ much; she couldn't blame Squall for wanting to screw her, only for wanting to date her.) She wants to see how hard she can make Rinoa come.

And when Rinoa beckons, maybe Quistis would comply, and maybe she would be playing with Rinoa's hair, and kissing and stroking and pinching her breasts, and her tongue would trace along the outline of Rinoa's chest and then her collarbone, and then the nightgown would come all the way off. And Quistis would find herself only too happy to have her head between Rinoa's thighs, to now be focused solely on giving pleasure to the woman whom twenty minutes ago she had been yelling at. She would delight with every moan and squirm she elicited from Rinoa, on driving _her_ crazy and making her completely subservient to Quistis's ministrations. And by the time Rinoa was writhing on the couch mid-orgasm, Quistis, somehow, would for the first time feel they were on mutual ground. As if she had now proved her worth to Rinoa, as if she had been waiting for a chance to make herself part of Rinoa's libertine life.

Quistis does not have to ponder the implications of this, however, because it will never happen and she is definitely not delivering anything to Rinoa's apartment tonight. Quistis is also very much not getting hot and bothered thinking about this at her desk. But she heads for the ladies' room just in case.

She was just entertaining idle thoughts as a break from grading, she tells herself. She has most certainly _not_ been spending the past half-hour fantasizing. Or if she had been, they certainly weren't _sexual_ fantasies. They were just ... fantasies that happened to involve sex. After all, she could hardly to be said to be harboring any secret lusts when she couldn't even decide at whom they were directed. Was she wanting to steal Squall away from Rinoa, or Rinoa away from Squall? If she couldn't even decide _that_ , surely this didn't constitute any kind of actual desire.

Quistis pokes her head into the bathroom. As she suspected, everyone else has already gone back to their rooms and the women's bathroom is as silent and lifeless as a ghost town. Perfect. She slips into one of the stalls and closes the door behind her.

Anyway, it wasn't like she wanted the both of them. It was not like she could imagine herself crammed into bed with the two of them, spending until practically dawn having sex with them in any and every possible combination. How would a scenario like that even _happen_? Well, she supposed it could on some SeeD mission, maybe when they were tracking a Guardian Force in some remote town. They would all be staying at some obscure hotel, with no one they knew anywhere in town, let alone the hotel, and they would feel disconnected from their normal lives, from the usual rules and roles that constrained them. And maybe -- in this alternate universe that, Hyne forbid, would never actually come true -- she had already fucked them both separately and they wanted her again and had been plotting the whole trip to get her into bed with them. That wouldn't be entirely implausible.

Maybe then, when they had just finished reviewing their last briefing in Squall's hotel room and Quistis was leaving for her own room for the night, Rinoa would stop her and ask where Quistis was going. Hadn't this whole day together been leading up to their finally having a threesome? Where did Quistis think she was going? Squall would concur and say he was sick of them dodging around this and it would be pretty stupid for Quistis to walk out now given how much time she spent lusting over them.

And Quistis would have to try to play it cool and concede that she _might_ be willing to agree to this, _might_ have fun joining them in bed, without looking like she'd just won the lottery. She would set her suitcase back down on their floor and take out the pajamas she didn't expect to be wearing for very long. There would be the now-torturous procedure of getting ready for bed, through which Quistis would try to be as nonchalant as possible, as if having three-ways with her coworkers was everyday stuff for her. But she would be feeling like had to stop her heart from beating right through the wall of her chest while she waited for Squall to brush his teeth in his boxers and Rinoa to change into her nightgown.

She would not be sure if this was going to be her most liberating sexual experience or her most terrible. But when she had finished washing her face and taking out her contacts, Rinoa would be already curled up in bed, watching her with a look of eager anticipation. Squall would sneak up and grab her ass and she would see that he was already hard. And by the time she climbed into their bed, they would all be eying each each other and thinking about what they wanted to do to each other and she would know that this is what they all desired.

Quistis is not masturbating to these thoughts. She just happened to feel like getting off. The thoughts are a coincidence.

There would be slightly nervous laughing, and glances both awkward and lusty. And then kissing, Squall kissing Quistis and Rinoa kissing Quistis and Squall kissing Rinoa and Squall kissing Quistis's lips while Rinoa kissed her neck. Clothes would be removed in a tangle of hands and undergarments and bedsheets and fingers straying where they produce audible gasps from another's lips. And now she and Squall are fucking while Rinoa watches from the corner of the bed and gets herself off, and then Squall and Rinoa are going at it while Quistis is behind Rinoa and playing with Rinoa's tits and it is finally joyous and hot seeing them together, delighting in their bodies, and then she and Rinoa somehow find themselves 69ing and for the first time Quistis is finding Rinoa's constant moans cute and sexy, and then they are taking turns blowing Squall while he fingers first Rinoa and then Quistis, and ...

Somewhere around this point, Quistis has stopped pretending not to want this completely, not to want the both of them in any and every combination possible, not to wish dearly that this was life she could actually have. She comes hard, her back arching against the porcelain behind her, feeling herself flush and her body run away from her. She continues to sit there, watching her fingers still tremble several minutes after her orgasm, a little surprised at how vivid that whole fantasy had gotten. Was she really that into them? Somehow she cannot think of anything but Rinoa and Squall smirking at her in response. _All right, you win,_ she concedes. _You're hot and sexy and I'm the lonely loser. Is that what you wanted to hear from me?_

But, any rate, that entertaining diversion was over. She hasn't forgotten that she still had grading to do. Even in the throes of passion (real or imaginary), Quistis Trepe was still a woman who remembered what her duty and her purpose was. Back to the office.

Fate being what it is, though, she is somehow not surprised when sees which two people had showed up to wait outside her door. "Oh, there you are," Squall says. "We were wondering where'd you'd disappeared to."

"I was, uh, thinking about some things. Why are you two here? I thought you had your nature thingy to go to."

Squall shrugs. "It sucked. We decided to go home."

Rinoa tugs on Squall's hand, firmly ensconced in her own. "And I convinced Squall he was being a jerk for never seeing you anymore, so we wanted to invite you over. We thought you might want to hang out instead of spending all night in your office doing ..." She looks around. "...whatever you're wasting time on."

"I'm grading," Quistis insists. "But, uh ... sure. Let's do that." Well, that had certainly come out of nowhere, unless Quistis had suddenly acquired the mutant superpower to will things into being through her sexual fantasies. (Probably not, but wouldn't _that_ be exciting?) But, gosh, she needs a break, any kind of break, even if it means being the third wheel.

They are headed down the hall to the elevator. Quistis is an experienced Squall-watcher and she can tell from the look on his face -- half glower, half glum frown -- that he feels bad for standing her up earlier. He hasn't bothered to say anything, but they both know it doesn't matter, because Quistis already understands what he is thinking. But then Rinoa glares at him, and he is goaded into speaking up. "Hope you haven't been feeling too left out, Quistis."

"Oh, well. I wouldn't want to break up Balamb Garden's own lovebirds." Quistis isn't sure why she says things like this, or how much of it is sarcastic.

"...whatever." Squall gives a non-committal nod. "We've got time for you. And I'm sure Rinoa's got a few beers in the fridge if you want to crack one open for the end of the term after all."

They get in the elevator. "Yeah, half the kids are gone for their summer break, I think," Rinoa says, "so we've pretty much got the block to ourselves." She casts a critical eye at Quistis and her boring, uptight life. "Not that _Quistis_ would ever want to stay up all night doing anything wild and crazy."

Quistis is starting to smirk.

"Uh, would you, Quistis?"

There are a lot of things Quistis might or might not be doing tonight.


End file.
